


The 12 Days of Christmas

by Dramione84



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Gift Giving, Romance, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione84/pseuds/Dramione84
Summary: Hermione Granger has a secret admirer who is sending her gifts from the muggle carol, 12 Days of Christmas. What will she discover and how will she feel when the identity of her true love is revealed?





	1. The First Day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bentnotbroken1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bentnotbroken1/gifts).



> This is my Christmas gift to all my readers. I hope you enjoy this short fic, based on the song The 12 Days of Christmas, which I will update daily from now until Epiphany. It is unbeta'd because everyone is busy so any mistakes are my own ;) Merry Christmas to you all xx
> 
> Chapter One is dedicated to Bentnotbroken1 because she is a sweetie and I love her xx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%201.jpg.html)

**The First Day of Christmas**

_On the First Day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

Hermione brushed off the floo powder as she stepped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, closely followed by Pansy.

"Harry?" she called, confused by the stillness of the house. "Harry?"

Catching movement out of the window, Pansy rushed to the back door, yanking it open and popping her head out.

"They're out here, Mia!" she called before trudging out into the snow to join Harry and Draco who were busy building a snowman with James.

 

James beamed as he came running up the garden. "Aunty 'Mione!" he shrieked, as Hermione pulled him into a bear hug. "Daddy and Uncle Draco are making me the bestest snowman ever!" James exclaimed, tugging her hand. "Come see!"

"Hey," Hermione greeted Draco shyly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear and shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Draco nodded cordially as Harry lifted the head of the snowman into position.

"Mione, you're here! And just in time," cried Harry, snatching her scarf from where it was draped loosely about her neck.

"Hey!" she cried, as Harry wrapped the scarf around the neck of the snowman, flashing Hermione a wicked grin.  Beside him Draco chuckled until he caught the death stare she threw at him.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked, her tone slightly threatening. Harry could tell she was pissed off.

"Gone to get a few last minute bits and pieces with George.  I'll get you a new scarf on Boxing Day," he grinned as Hermione crossed her arms in front of her.

"But I liked _that_ one," she huffed.

"But so does Mister Snowman," James pointed out, looking up at her. Hermione looked at James, trying to resist the innocent expression on his face. "Can he keep it?"

"Yes, can he keep it?" Harry echoed, his grin increasing.

"Please Auntie 'Mione?" James begged

"Yes, please?" Draco chimed in, smirking.

"I hate you both," Hermione complained to Harry and Draco before looking at James.

"Oh, go on then," she agreed.

 

"Sucker," Pansy commented, grinning slyly, as she and Hermione made their way indoors as the boys put the finishing touches on the snowman.

"I know," Hermione sighed. "They just know how to wrap my inner Hufflepuff side around their little finger, the little shits," Hermione chuckled.

"Yeah, well I think it's high time you shut the Hufflepuff up," Pansy mocked, jabbing Hermione playfully in the ribs.

"You should put that on a tee-shirt," Hermione grinned as they took off their coats, hanging them up.

 

Hermione filled the kettle while Pansy gathered all the ingredients together to make a batch of hot chocolate the way James liked it best, with marshmallows and cream. Suddenly the kitchen was filled with noise as the boys barrelled in. Draco plonked James on a stool at the island, helping him to pull off his wellies as Hermione filled the waiting mugs and Pansy topped them.

"Why don't we have these in the front room and we can stick some of those muggle films on that you like?" Draco suggested to James who nodded, jumping down from the stool, rushing in the direction of the living room.

 

As the others made their way to follow him, they heard him shrieking excitedly.

"James?" Hermione called, as she turned into the living room, her eyes widening with shock.

In the middle of the room was an enchanted tree, sparkling and shimmering with magic, a little bird tweeting from one of the branches.

"What on earth?" Hermione began as the Pansy, Harry and Draco came into the living room, equally dumbstruck.

"Why is there a tree in my living room?" asked Harry, confused, making his way over to it.

"Wait!" Hermione cried, causing Harry to whip his head around, his forehead creasing.

"What?" he asked.

"You don't know how it got here or why, I just think you should be a little cautious is all," Hermione suggested, stepping forward slowly, scrutinising the tree carefully.

"Seems harmless to me, Granger" Draco shrugged casually.

"Oh and since when were you the authority on all things Dark?" Hermione quipped, a little bite to her tone causing Pansy to flinch slightly.

Draco pulled up his left sleeve. "Since I got this," he replied, raising one eyebrow at her, before settling on the couch.

"Below the belt don't you think?" Pansy whispered, giving Hermione a pointed look.

 

Hermione blushed, humbled. "Sorry, Malfoy," she told him quietly, before stepping towards Harry who had found a tag on the tree.

"Dear Hermione,

As it's Christmas Eve, the First Day of Christmas, I gift you a partridge in a pear tree," Harry read, looking up at her shocked face as the blossom on the tree turned into pears.

"Does it say who it's from?" Hermione asked, taking the tag from him.

Harry shook his head. "No, that's all it said."

"But who would send something like this?" she asked, confused.

"I'd hazard a guess at your true love," Pansy quipped, grinning at Hermione who stuck her tongue out.

"How do _you_ know the muggle song?" Hermione asked, returning the pointed look Pansy had flashed her earlier.

Pansy shrugged. "You have been playing those ridiculous Christmas songs for weeks now, some of it was bound to seep in, however hard I resisted," she sighed dramatically. "Now are we watching Christmas movies or not?" she asked, snuggling next to James on the sofa.

"Don't you think we should try to figure out who sent this?" asked Hermione, looking from the tree to Pansy.

"Not particularly," Pansy shrugged, "I'm sure this won't be the last you hear of your secret admirer," she grinned as Harry popped a DVD in the player.

"Looks like you're out numbered, Granger," Draco grinned. Hermione grabbed a cushion and smacked him with it playfully. "Ow! What was that for?" he complained, chuckling as Hermione sat on the sofa next to him, glancing at the tree that still shimmered in the middle of the room.

"So are we supposed to just leave it there and ignore it then?" Hermione asked, confused.

"We could decorate it if you like?" Pansy suggested, grinning at her.

"I hate you all," Hermione huffed.

"No you don't, you love us," Harry grinned as he settled into his chair.

Hermione wasn't so sure.


	2. The Second Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%202.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to K_Lynne317 with love x

_On the Second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

The jostling of the bed followed by the heavy weight that dropped suddenly onto Hermione woke her from her deep sleep.

“James,” she groaned, “stop bouncing on me.”

“But it’s Christmas morning, Aunty ‘Mione, wake uppp!” he pleaded, pushing his face into hers.

“Fine, I’m up, okay? I’m getting up,” she groaned.  “What time is it?” she asked, squinting at her wristwatch as she picked it up from the night stand.  

“Merlin! It’s almost ten! Why did your Mum and Dad let me sleep in so late?” she asked, grabbing her robe from where it was slung over the back of the chair at her dressing table.

“We figured you must be tired, ‘Mione, you’ve been working yourself ragged lately,” Ginny smiled, coming into the bedroom.  “But this one is so full of beans because we made him wait to open presents,” she grabbed James off Hermione’s bed by his middle as he tried to wriggle away.

“Come on you, leave your Aunt to get ready,” Ginny admonished as Hermione dashed into the shower.

 

xxxxx

 

James sat at the breakfast table, the remnants of his stocking scattered about, rolling his new trucks up and down.  Ginny, Harry and Pansy sat at one end of the table, idly chatting, while Draco sat the other end completing the Times crossword, sipping black coffee.  

“Ah, deigned to join us I see, Granger,” he quipped, smirking into his cup.

Hermione slapped him upside the back of his head.

“Ow! What’s with all the abuse lately?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow at her.

“Sorry, hand slipped,” she smirked, pouring herself a cup of coffee as James clambered down from the table, yanking her arm.

 

Ginny turned in her seat.  “James,” she cautioned, her tone causing the precocious child to let go of his aunt, turning to his mother.

“Please can we go open our presents now?” he asked, his face a picture of innocence as Ginny struggled to suppress a laugh.

“Okay,” she agreed, laughing as James rushed from the room.

 

Taking her coffee into the lounge, Hermione found her eyes drawn to the Christmas tree which shimmered and glowed much like the pear tree that had been gifted to her the day before.  Confused, her eyebrows knitted together slowly before widening at the sight of two ornaments in the middle of the tree that had not been there before.

 

“Harry, where did these come from?” Hermione asked, reaching out to touch the pristine porcelain ornaments carved into a pair of turtle doves.

“No idea, they weren’t there yesterday,” he murmured, equally confused by their sudden appearance.

“Looks like there is a tag there though,” he pointed to where a white tag with Merry Christmas was embossed in silver.

 

Hermione turned the tag over, the elegant emerald script now in view.

“Dear Hermione,

As it’s Christmas Day, the Second Day of Christmas, I gift you these two turtle doves,” she read, looking up to see the enchantment take hold, the two birds preening each other lovingly.

 

“Your secret admirer seems to be intent on going all out with this song,” Pansy grinned, reading over Hermione’s shoulder.

Hermione blushed, pressing the tag to her chest as Pansy chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek.  “Don’t worry, love, I’m not jealous.”

 

Hermione frowned as Pansy knelt down, grabbing a present with James’s name on it.  

“Right you,” Pansy grinned at James’s gleeful expression.  “Time for Aunty Pans to spoil you rotten.”

“Please don’t ruin my god child,” Draco admonished, watching as Hermione came to settle on the couch, still clutching the tag.

“But it’s the only talent I have,” Pansy pouted.

 

“You okay there, Granger?” Draco asked quietly as James opened his presents from Pansy.

“What? Oh, sure, just a little confused,” she softly replied, privately wondering who could be giving her the sudden attention.

“Did you know there is a turtle dove constellation?” he asked, leaning forward so she would hear his quiet words despite the din of James’s excitement.

  
Hermione turned to face him, shaking her head.  “No, I didn’t.”

Draco smiled, “well if there is one thing my family knows about, it’s constellations,” he quirked an amused eyebrow at her.  “It is said that they are a witness to a lost and dying world,” he told her quietly.  “I think there might be more to this for your beau than just the song.”

 

Hermione watched, stunned into silence by his words, as he lept from the couch, clapping his hands together suddenly.  “My turn. If anyone is going to spoil my godchild, let it be me!”

“How about no one spoils my son,” Harry started to complain, but seeing the looks on Draco and Pansy’s faces, he backed down with a smile.

“Looks like you’re outnumbered, Potter,” Ginny grinned, kissing her husband before diving into the melee.

“Fine,” Harry rolled his eyes, before stealing a glance at Hermione who was still contemplating what she had been told.  “But be quick before ‘Mione comes to her senses and tells us all off!”

  



	3. The Third Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%203.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Starrnobella

_On the Third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

Hermione sat sipping her coffee at the kitchen table, finishing the Times crossword that Draco had given up on the day before.  It was Boxing Day and she was the only one up, enjoying the peace and stillness of the house while everyone enjoyed a lie in.  James, exhausted from the day before was guaranteed to stay in bed at least one hour extra which gave Hermione enough time to sit in her robe and the pyjamas Harry and Ginny had given her before taking an extra long shower before Draco took all the hot water.

 

As much as he annoyed her at times, she had grown quite fond of him over the five years since Harry had befriended him and brought him into the fold of their little family.  Kingsley had partnered them together when they had both applied to become aurors, insisting that it was the only way forward in a world that was full of mistrust and suspicion.  

 

Rivalry had quickly been put aside after an altercation had taken place in the cafeteria, Draco coming off the worst from the unexpected attack.  When Draco didn’t come into work for the rest of the week, Harry had floo’d to his flat and found him surrounded by empty bottles of Firewhiskey and in desperate need of a shower and a shave.  Without thinking twice, Harry had taken him to Grimmauld Place and Draco had basically never left.

 

Hermione marvelled at her friends’ capacity for compassion as she recalled the way Harry and Ginny had welcomed him into their home and their family when all the world seemed against him.

 

“It’s okay, Granger, I wasn’t hoping to finish that today,” Draco complained, his voice startling Hermione as he padded into the kitchen, still in his boxers and crisp white t-shirt he had slept in.

He carded his hand through his bed head, as he reached into the cupboard to take out the coffee, t-shirt riding up slightly, affording Hermione a glimpse of his well toned abs.

“Like what you see?” he asked, chuckling slightly as he filled the percolator to brew a fresh pot of coffee.  He didn’t need to look at her to know she was blushing.

“I…” she began, her voice catching in her throat.

 

“Interrupting something am I?” Pansy quipped with a smirk as she strode into the kitchen in her business suit, travel mug in hand, taking the coffee pot from Draco’s hand before he could pour the dark liquid into his waiting cup.

“Excuse me?” he scolded, eyes wide with astonishment at her brazen action as she poured coffee into her travel mug.

Pansy stuck her tongue out amusedly.

 

“Why are you dressed for work? It’s Boxing Day,” Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

“Higgins called me in, something about a spot inspection in the New Year,” she sighed, referring to her supervisor in the Department of International Magical Co-operation.

“And that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Draco asked, leaning against the sideboard sipping his coffee.

“No, apparently not,” she huffed, “anyway, I should be back around two, do NOT leave for drinks with Blaise without me!” she warned, before blowing kisses to Draco and Hermione as she stepped into the floo.  “Ciao!”

 

Realising they were alone once more, and his question remained unanswered, Hermione blushed furiously as Draco raised one eyebrow at her, slowly, the corner of his lips tugging up into a lopsided smile.

 

Hermione dashed from the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time, leaving Draco chuckling into his cup.  Once inside her room, she closed her bedroom door, leaning against it.  She closed her eyes momentarily as she willed her racing heart to slow down, wondering why her stomach seemed to be fluttering.  A vague notion of banging her head against the door flickered across her mind, and she shook her head, almost as if to shake the image away.  

 

As she opened her eyes, something on her pillow caught her eye.  Frowning, she made her way over to the bed, her eyes narrow as she took the item in her hand.  It was a silver pendant with three birds on it, a small envelope with it, addressed to her.  Opening the envelope, she pulled out the white card, its edges embossed in silver, a message to her in emerald ink.

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_As it is Boxing Day, the Third Day of Christmas, I gift you this Goblin made silver pendant of Three French Hens._

 

Hermione ran her fingers over the ink as she scrutinised the handwriting for any tell-tale signs that would give away the sending, but finding none, she wondered if the writing had been spelled to hide the sender’s identity.  

 

“Who do you think is sending you the gifts?” came Ginny’s voice from the doorway.

“Geez woman,” Hermione breathed, startled, her head whipping round to see Ginny grinning at her.  “What is it with people sneaking up on me?”

“Didn’t know people were,” Ginny shrugged, coming to sit on the bed, tearing the card from Hermione’s fingers.

“Oh, by all means, help yourself,” Hermione huffed, before perching on the bed as Ginny read.

“Hey, I have a husband and child, and I am five months pregnant with number two: I have to take my amusement where I find it, and I find it in this mystery of your secret admirer,” Ginny grinned.

“Yes, because my failed love-life is just so amusing,” Hermione complained sardonically.

“Aren’t you even a little thrilled at the prospect of a secret admirer?” Ginny asked, her grin widening as she rearranged the pillows on Hermione’s bed, making herself more comfortable.

“Depends on who the secret admirer turns out to be,” Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose slightly.

“Malfoy is single, maybe it’s him,” Ginny suggested, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh give that up would you, I know it would make your year if not your decade to have your son’s godparents hook up but that is not going to happen,” Hermione shook her head, blushing.

“Why not?” Ginny asked, tilting her head to one side.

“He doesn’t look at me like that,” Hermione replied, her voice quiet.

Ginny frowned.  “Like what?”

“He still sees the awkward bookworm I was in my childhood.  We have buried our differences, but deep down…” her voice trailed off.  Ginny sat in silence for a moment, wondering whether to divulge what she had noticed on Christmas Day or not.

“Interesting,” she muttered to herself.

Hermione looked up at Ginny frowning.  “What is?”

Ginny shook her head, rising from the bed.  “Oh nothing,” she waved her hand dismissively, pausing at the door.

“He doesn’t look at you the way you think he does,” Ginny told her giving her a pointed look.

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say, staring at her as she smiled before leaving the room.

 

If he didn’t look at her the way she thought he did, how did he look at her, she wondered.


	4. The Fourth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%204.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Squarepeg72 x

_On the Forth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

Pansy jogged down back the stairs, bursting into the kitchen where Hermione was cooking bacon and eggs.

“That smells divine,” she sighed, pushing herself up on the counter.

“Will you get down from there!” Hermione reprimanded, smacking her playfully with a tea towel.

“Sure, _mum_ ,” she drawled, dragging out the syllables as she bounced down off the counter and slipping onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.

“Why are you so excited anyway?” Hermione asked, plating up the breakfast.

Pansy’s jaw dropped in astonishment at what she considered to be an obvious question. “Today is the first day of the sales! Don’t tell me you have forgotten?”

 

Hermione smiled as she pushed Pansy’s plate in front of her, slipping onto one of stools next to her. “No, I haven’t forgotten that you and Ginny are going to drag me kicking and screaming into the madness that is the post Christmas sales,” she complained as she skewered a piece of bacon with her fork, moodily.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “It’s not as bad as you think!”

 

“What’s not as bad as you think?” Draco yawned coming into the kitchen, stretching.

“The sales,” Pansy clarified, looking up. “And for Merlin’s sake, put on some clothes!”

Draco chuckled. “I recall a time, not all that long ago, when you used to enjoy seeing me in nothing but my Calvin Kleins and a crisp white t-shirt, Pans,” he smirked, grabbing the coffee pot.

“Then I came to my senses!” Pansy poked her tongue out.

“Charming,” Draco chuckled, stepping over to the counter grabbing Hermione’s hand and snagging her forkful of eggs.

“Hey!” Hermione cried, smacking him.

 

“Children, play nice,” Ginny laughed as she came into the kitchen, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring some into her travel mug.

“I take back what I said earlier, Ginny is mum,” Pansy joked, smirking at Ginny.

“That’s right, I am, so girls, finish your breakfast and Draco go put on some clothes!” she instructed smiling.

“Yes, mum,” the three chorused.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

“Did you leave anything in the shops?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrows at the sight of all the shopping bags as Ginny, Pansy and Hermione stepped out of the floo one by one.

“Funny,” Pansy smirked, slipping onto a stool, removing her shoes and massaging her feet.  “I don’t think I’ve shopped so much in my life,” she sighed.

“Yeah, you really did take the phrase ‘shop til I drop’ to the extreme today,” Hermione chuckled.

“Mummy!” James cried, rushing into the kitchen.  “Did you get me anything?”

“I sure did, kiddo,” Ginny smiled, reaching into a bag and pulling out a box, watching as James’s eyes widened.

“A new train set! Yes!” James shrieked.

“Want to go set it up?” Draco asked, smiling as James nodded his head excitedly, as Draco picked him up, settling him onto his hip.  Hermione couldn’t help the little flutter across her heart as she watched the natural ease with which Draco interacted with James.

 

Hermione grabbed her bags, jogging up the back stairs to her room, depositing them on the bed to sort through later.  Grabbing the book that Draco had given her for Christmas, she padded downstairs, turning into the lounge where Draco had set up the train set.  Settling into her favourite armchair, she pulled her legs up, tucking them under her as she opened the book, listening to James making choo choo noises as he and Draco pushed the trains along the track.

 

Suddenly James paused, his little face popping up above Draco’s head.  “What’s that noise?”

Hermione looked up, frowning.  “It sounds like birds,” she answered, turning her head as she glanced around the room.

 

The pear tree, still standing near the Christmas tree, shimmered and glowed, Hermione feeling the magic tingle in the room.  Squinting at the tree, she saw four brightly coloured birds flutter from a nest in the middle of the tree.  Slowly, she stood from her chair, the book falling from her lap, forgotten, as she made her way over to the tree.  As she approached it, a white tag hanging from a silver ribbon materialised on one of the lower branches.  

 

Singing, the birds fluttered around Hermione in two pairs, as Hermione untied the ribbon, taking the tag in her hands.  Turning it over, she saw the now familiar emerald script.

 

_Dear Hermione_

_As it is the Fourth Day of Christmas I gift you these four calling birds, charmed to sing to you as they fly to the Four Watchtowers._

 

“The Four Watchtowers?” Pansy asked, reading over her shoulder, startling Hermione who clutched the card to her chest, spinning around, seeing Pansy’s confused face.

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione murmured as she stepped over Draco who was lying on his stomach across the lounge floor.

 

“Everything alright, Granger?” Draco asked casually, as he rolled onto his side, leaning on his elbow.

“Yeah…” she replied, her voice airy.  Pansy shuddered.  

“What?” Hermione asked, eyes screwing slightly as she stared confused at her best friend.

“Nothing, it was just scary how much you reminded me of Luna for a second.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, her mouth open ready with a retort as Pansy held her hands up.  “Look, I love Luna as much as you but I love Hermione more so if you could not channel her in her absence I would be most grateful,” she shrugged.

 

Chuckling softly, Hermione shook her head.  “Idiot,” she playfully retorted before turning to Draco.  “I’m just confused because it’s not a line from the song.”

Draco frowned.  “Didn’t you once say that a lot of your muggle songs have roots in magical stories?”

Hermione’s mouth opened slightly in shock. “Yeah, I did,” she replied, astonished at the fact that he had remembered something she had said.  Suddenly her eyes went wide and she rushed from the room, almost knocking into Harry as he brought in snacks for James.

“Where’s she off to in such a tearing hurry?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Where do you think?” Draco smirked.

“The library,” they chuckled in unison.

 


	5. The Fifth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%205.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my girl, xxDustNight88 xoxo

_On the Fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

Pansy pushed the door to the library open, the worn hinges creaking slightly.  Crossing the threshold, she set the cup of tea down on the oak desk that had seen better days, peering over Hermione’s shoulder.

 

“Whatcha reading?” she asked, her eyes scanning the titles of the books that Hermione had already finished and set down in a pile on the desk, ready to put back once she was done.

“It’s a book about pagan folk songs,” Hermione replied, looking up, seeing the cup and saucer perched on the faded ink blotter.

 

Setting the book down, she lifted the cup to her lips with thanks, pausing as she looked at Pansy over the rim of the cup.  “Earl Grey?” she asked.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “Obviously,” she drawled, elongating the syllables in a way that was eerily reminiscent of their dear departed former professor, Snape.  “Stirred three times anti-clockwise before removing the tea bag.  I’ve shared an apartment with you for the last four years; I know every nuance to tea making,” she smiled, puffing her chest out a little, proudly.

“Well done my young padawan,” Hermione grinned, saluting her with the cup before taking a sip, her eyelids fluttering closed momentarily.

 

Pansy turned the book around, her eyes scanning the text.  “So did you find out anything about the watchtowers?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Only that the guardian watchtowers correspond with the four compass points: North, South, East and West.  They in turn correspond with the four elements,” she sighed, setting the cup back down on its saucer.  “Other than that I found very little.”

 

Pansy hummed, handing the book back to Hermione.  “Have you found today’s gift yet?” she asked, her lips curling up into an amused smile.

“You are taking far too much pleasure from this,” Hermione noted, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and fiddling with her hair nervously.

“Why are you _not_ taking pleasure from this?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, trying to read Hermione.  “If it were me, I would…”

“But it’s not you, is it? It’s me.  You know attention makes me feel uncomfortable,” she mumbled, her voice low and Pansy found herself flashing back to the day they had re-met as adults, in a supply closet at the Ministry, no less.

 

Pansy had been in the closet, waiting for Blaise as it so happened, when the door had suddenly burst open.  Peering around the shelving unit that she had been sat on a bucket behind, she stubbed out the cigarette she had been surreptitiously smoking with the toe of her too-high heels, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired witch that had her back pressed up against the door, hyperventilating and borderline hysterical.  

“Well that was unexpected,” she muttered to herself, frowning as she scanned the shelves, locating a paper bag, stepping forward.  

 

Hearing the noise, Hermione’s eyes had shot open, startled, her panic attack worsening.  Pansy had thrust the bag in front of her face, telling her to breathe into it, rolling her eyes before reaching out and pulling Hermione towards the upturned bucket on which Pansy had been sat.  She rubbed her shoulders, helping to calm her down while crouched in front of her.  The door had then opened again and in stepped Blaise, firewhiskey in hand, one eyebrow raising at the sight his eyes fell on.  He smirked, in that way that was quintessentially Blaise, all regal and stately and dripping with sarcasm, as his velvet voice drawled out, “well, hello Ladies.”

“Fuck off, Zabini.  Can’t you see I’m busy?” Pansy had snapped, causing him to chuckle seemingly unfazed by the brush off.  

“Call me tonight, bella,” he smirked, before slipping back out of the closet, leaving the two women alone once more.

 

Hermione’s breath had steadied, and she had pulled the bag down from her face, her expression a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

“How long?” Pansy had asked.

Hermione frowned at the question.

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “How long have you been having anxiety attacks?”

Hermione looked down at the bag, crushed in her pale hands, resting in her hands.  “Since the war,” she mumbled.  “Press conferences make them worse,” she explained, nodding her head towards the door.

“I see,” Pansy muttered, her forehead creasing as she glanced at the door, thinking. “Right then,” she suddenly stated, pulling herself up, holding her hand out for Hermione to take.  Hermione frowned at her hand, looking up at Pansy who huffed, grabbed Hermione’s hand and proceeded to half drag her out of the closet.

  
A shrewd reporter caught the movement, rushing to the closet, followed by several others and their entourage of camera crews, all yelling her name and their questions as their quick quotes quills hovered next to them and camera flashes went off.

 

“Unless you want me to turn you into shoes, and I do not mean with my wand, I suggest you back the fuck off,” Pansy hissed, elbowing her way through the crowd, Hermione squeezing her hand so tight she was sure to cut off her circulation.  One reporter tried her luck, her hand coming to touch Pansy’s shoulder, causing her to spin around, her eyes glazing over with a dangerous look.  “Mrs Reynolds, unless you want the world to know about your relationship with Kingsley Shacklebolt’s aide, I suggest you take heed of my previous instruction,” she hissed, watching the witch pale considerably.

 

Once safely beyond the clutches of the reporters, Pansy had taken Hermione to lunch and the rest, as they say, was history.  The memory faded and Pansy found her hand resting on Hermione’s.  She gave it a slight squeeze.

 

“I have a feeling that whoever this guy is, he knows that much about you,” she told her, reassuringly, smiling at Hermione’s confused stare.    
“He isn’t exactly making a huge fanfare about the gifts, showing up at your door with roses and a string quartet,” she told her.

“No, that’s your fantasy,” Hermione remarked, raising one eyebrow at her.

“Yes, yes it is,” she replied, wistfully, a smile on her lips, before shaking the image away.  “Anyway, this is about you, not me, let’s go see if you have another gift yet,” she smirked, pulling Hermione from her chair, half dragging her from the library.  

 

Hermione tried to protest as Pansy pulled her down the stairs, the pair laughing as they burst into the lounge, causing Draco to look up from the Times.  Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the crossword puzzle.

 

“Look!” Pansy cried, pointing to the baby grand piano, where a small box with a pristine white envelope sat on the top.  “Was that there when you came in here?” she asked, rounding on Draco.

Draco frowned.  “Couldn’t say, I wasn’t exactly looking for anything,” he told her.  “Been kind of preoccupied.” He lifted up his newspaper.

 

Hermione stepped towards the piano, nervously taking the envelop in her hands and brushing the script with her fingers.  Slipping the card out she read the message aloud.

“Dear Hermione,

As it is the Fifth Day of Christmas, I gift to you this gold ring, it’s sacred band of five entwined rings, a symbol of eternity, and reflecting the fiery points of light.”

 

“Interesting,” murmured Pansy as she sat on the piano stall, watching as Hermione opened the ring box, a small gasp emitting from her lips.

Pansy quirked an eyebrow at her expectantly as Hermione removed the ring from its velvet cushion.  

 

“That is Goblin made,” Pansy breathed, coming to stand beside Hermione.  “It’s exquisite.”

“What is?” Ginny asked, crossing into the lounge.

“Hermione’s ring,” she commented, as Ginny peered over Hermione’s shoulder, taking in the sight of the Dragon shaped ring, it’s tail looping into five entwined bands before finishing in the Dragon’s jaw.

“Why is it eating it’s tail?” Ginny asked, as Hermione twisted the ring, the light catching it and bursting into five fiery points of light.

“Ouroboros,” Hermione murmured, amazed at the magic as it tingled down her arm as though it was made for her and her alone.

“Or-orbor-what now?” Ginny asked, wrinkling her forehead.

“Ouroboros,” Hermione repeated.  “Infinite creation, death and rebirth,” she explained.

“Hence eternity,” Pansy murmured as Hermione nodded.

“Five is the number of eternity,” Draco commented nonchalantly from the sofa, causing the three women to spin round, Pansy and Ginny sharing a look as Hermione regarded him.  

“Seems your man knows a bit about alchemy and runes, too,” he continued, lazily filling in the word he was missing before standing and striding purposefully towards the door.  He paused as he passed Hermione, who stared up at him in silence.

“Ourorboros,” he repeated.  “ _The Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra._ Looks like it’s back to the library for you, Granger,” he remarked, before leaving Hermione stunned in his wake.


	6. The Sixth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%206.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Hexmionegranger because she is a sweetie x

_On the Sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

Hermione pushed her reading glasses up her nose.  She hated wearing them, but had to admit they made her tired eyes feel better when she sat up late reading.  

“Have you been sat there all night?” Harry asked, his tone slightly reprimanding as he stepped into the library.

 

Hermione gave him a sidelong look, before giving up with the lie that was forming on her lips and rolling her eyes instead.  “I was going to go to bed,” she began, huffing as Harry gave her a look that suggested he did not believe her.  “But it got to six a.m and there didn’t seem much point,” she explained, her tone a little defensive.

 

Harry hummed his reply.  “James has a play date with Victoire at the burrow today.  Ginny and I are leaving in about half an hour.  Would you like to come?” he asked, attempting to sound nonchalant and failing.

 

“I don’t think that is wise, do you?” Hermione asked, returning her attention to the text she was reading.

“Hermione, he won’t even be there,” Harry told her quietly, pausing as she looked up for a second, her fingers twitching nervously before she reread the sentence she had just read.  

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” she replied, reading it a third time.

“Molly says you hardly visit her any more.  She misses you,” he told her, giving her a pointed look.

Hermione gave up and set the text on the desk, sighing heavily.  “You of all people know that time off from the Ministry is a luxury.  I saved up all my time to take these two weeks off, and only because you insisted that I do so,” she told him, her voice betraying the strain she felt.

“All she is asking is one lunch,” Harry answered, giving her a pointed look.

“Not today, I am busy,” Hermione replied, avoiding his eyes as she reached for the text once more.

 

Harry knew when to press and when to back off, and right now was one of those times when he knew he needed to back off.  Pressing a kiss to her hair, he bade her farewell, going to join his wife and son in the kitchen where they were getting ready to floo to The Burrow.

 

Hearing the distant roar of the flames, Hermione let out the breath she had been holding in, rubbing her forehead as she tried to recall the last time she had seen Molly.  Things had been tense between them since her relationship with Ron had not resulted in the much hoped for fairytale ending of marriage and grandchildren for Molly and Arthur.  Instead, Ron had struggled to cope with Hermione’s traumatised state, and after years of friendship and unrequited feelings, the two had drifted apart until she had come home from work one day to find a Dear John waiting for her on the kitchen table.  Molly had not taken it well, and when Hermione had called around to drop off his things, the two women had exchanged tense words.  Molly had accused Hermione of setting too high expectations and making Ron feel inferior.  Hurt, Hermione had accused his mother of coddling him to the point of suffocation.  The truth had been far simpler: the two just couldn’t transition from friends to lovers.  When Charlie then offered Ron a chance to join him in Romania, he had left without any pretense or drawn out goodbyes.

 

Hermione was stubborn however, and four years later, she had not mended fences with Molly, despite the occasional press to do so from Harry and Ginny.

 

Stretching, Hermione decided to make herself some tea, padding down the backstairs to the kitchen.  Her mind was wandering over past conversations with Ron and various members of the Weasley clan as she filled the kettle placing it on the stove.

 

Taking her favourite mug from the cupboard, she shut the door, startling when she saw Draco standing beside her, semi clad in what was becoming his trademark attire of boxers and t-shirt.

“Merlin almighty!” Hermione hissed, clutching her chest as her heart rate sped, adrenaline coursing through her veins.  

“Calm down, Granger,” Draco smirked, “I know I have a body to die for, but you don’t literally have to suffer a heart attack on my account,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Cardiac arrest,” she supplied, her breathing returning to a more normal rate.

“Sorry?” he replied, frowning at her.

“When your heart stops: it’s called a cardiac arrest, not a heart attack,” she explained, looking up at him, her voice trailing off as her eyes fell on the cupid’s bow of his lips that curled into a smirk once more.

 

Draco chuckled.  “Do you ever turn off that brilliant mind of yours, Granger?” he asked, his breath hot as it ghosted across her face.  Hermione’s tongue darted out of her mouth, as she licked her dry lips, shaking her head slowly.  

 

The floo roared to life, causing Hermione to spin around as Draco looked up.  

“Honestly, Higgins is the most ridiculous man I have ever met,” Pansy cried as she stepped out of the flames, stalking to the fridge, yanking it open and removing the juice as she launched into a rant about her boss at the Ministry.  Hermione turned back as Draco ducked out of the kitchen.

 

Hermione frowned, half listening to Pansy, half wondering what the hell had just transpired between her and Draco.

“Are you even listening to me?” Pansy cried as she slammed a glass down on the counter.

“Yes,” Hermione yelped.

Pansy shook her head.  “No you weren’t. I know you, your mind is working overdrive….” Pansy glanced towards the door then back at Hermione.  “Wait, did I miss something?” she rushed, her words causing Hermione to blush although she wasn’t entirely sure why.  Had something happened between her and Draco before Pansy stepped out of the floo?

 

Pansy’s eyes went wide.  “It did, didn’t it.  What did you get today?”

Hermione frowned. “Eh?”

“The present! What was today’s present?” Pansy cried, waving her hands dramatically.

“Oh that,” Hermione replied.

“Oh that, she says,” Pansy echoed Hermione’s words, mockingly.  “Well? What did you get?”

“I haven’t a clue,” she replied, watching as Pansy’s jaw dropped before her eyes narrowed at her.  “Well then what _did_ happen?”

Hermione looked away.  “Nothing,” she breathed, avoiding the intensity of Pansy’s stare.

“You’re hiding something from me, Mia,” Pansy told her.

“No I am not.  Anyway, like you said, there should be a present around here somewhere, so why don’t you help me look?” Hermione suggested.

Pansy rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically as she pushed away from the counter.  “Fine,” she elongated the word as though Hermione was twisting her metaphorical arm.  

 

The two women rushed into the lounge where Draco was reading a book.

“Don’t let Potter catch you with your feet on the table,” Pansy quipped as they shared mocking looks while Hermione looked around the room.

“Anything?” Pansy asked, glancing over at Hermione who shook her head, a flash of disappointment ghosting across her face.

Pansy mirrored her look before sighing. “Did you find anything more about the points that are different from the song?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

 

Hermione nodded.  “Yes, but not much.  I was about to go back up to the library to carry on reading if you want to come up.”

Pansy made to follow her.  “Fine, but I am not reading anything more taxing than Vogue,” she told her.

 

Turning into the library, she came to such an abrupt stop that Pansy bowled into her.  “What the…” she began.

“That book was _not_ there when I went downstairs,” Hermione told her, approaching the desk tentatively.  Silver ribbon was tied around the book, a small black box sitting in one quarter, a familiar envelope on top.  Hermione tore it open, reading aloud.

“Dear Hermione

As it is the Sixth Day of Christmas, I gift you this silver brooch and this rare text:  Alchemy and Divination, The Book of Changes.”

Hermione opened the black box, taking out the silver brooch, six simple geese forming the outer circle, six eggs forming an inner circle.

Pansy took the brooch from Hermione as she unwrapped the text.

“Whoever your admirer is, he is going all out,” she commented.

 


	7. The Seventh Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%208.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Squarepeg72 x

_On the Seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

“I need your help,” Pansy pouted, suddenly appearing next to Hermione in the library.

“What is it this time?” Hermione sighed, putting down her quill.  Turning in her seat she regarded her best friend with mock exasperation.

 

Pansy thrust her phone under Hermione’s nose, causing the young women to scowl as her fingers curled around the device.  “What makes you think I can solve whatever your technical issues are?” Hermione huffed.

 

Pansy shrugged.  “It’s a muggle device, you're the muggleborn…” she began, settling into the seat across from her.

“So is Harry,” Hermione cried, frustrated.  

Pansy’s eyes snapped up from where she had been inspecting her nails, wondering if she ought to book an appointment at the salon for a manicure.  “Are you kidding? The only person more clueless is Draco,” she leant in conspiratorially.  “He has to ask James to help him with his iPad.  James. The child is four, Mia,” Pansy told her, eyes wide with shock.

 

Hermione giggled.  “That’s true actually, have you seen that advert on the television with the kids who can work the tech better than their parents? I am sure that advert is about Harry,” she laughed.  “Anyway, what’s allegedly the matter with your phone this time?” Hermione asked.  “If I recall correctly, last time you thought it was broken, you were trying to work it while my Kindle charger was plugged into it.  I’ve told you enough times mobiles don’t like rapid chargers, but you never listen,” she chastised with a shake of her head.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “No, it’s not that.  It’s Snapchat.  I don’t think it’s working properly,” she told her.  Hermione raised an eyebrow as she tapped the screen opening the app.  

“What makes you think it’s not working?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the screen as she tapped away.

“Blaise hasn’t checked any of my snaps from yesterday or today..” she began before Hermione cut her off as she thrust the phone back at her.

“Seriously? The app is working Pansy.  Blaise is visiting his mother in Venice; he is probably busy!” she admonished, picking up her quill from her notes.

“But he _always_ checks my snaps, so the app must be broken!” Pansy cried, screwing up her face as she tapped the screen.

“You’re broken,” Hermione muttered, before glancing sidelong at Pansy who stuck her tongue out at her.

 

Suddenly the library door burst open and James came rushing in, bubbling with excitement.  “Aunty ‘Mione! You must come see!” he cried, tugging at the sleeve of her cardigan with his chubby hands.

“What’s the matter, James?” Hermione asked, as he babbled excitedly, his tugging more insistent.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she chuckled, following him out the room and down the stairs to the lounge.  

 

Crossing the threshold, she gasped, taking in the sight of seven charmed paper swans flying around the room, before coming to land on the polished top of the baby grand piano.  Then, a pool of water seemed to appear on the surface as they swam, in one circle before settling in a pattern.  Once arranged, the paper dissolved, the pool of water receding into nothing, leaving seven diamonds, twinkling.  Hermione watched, awestruck, as a card appeared, it’s familiar emerald script addressing her.

 

“Dear Hermione,

As it is the Seventh Day of Christmas, I gift you these seven swans bearing seven brilliant diamonds which together form the Seven for the Gates between the Worlds.”

 

As she read the words, the magic of the spell completed, a silver chain connecting the stones in their pattern.  

 

A voice behind her broke her reverie.  “Pleiades,” Draco commented, his breath ghosting across the back of her neck, causing her to shiver at his proximity.

“Yes,” she breathed, as he reached forward, taking the chain and delicately placing it around her neck.

“Whoever your admirer is, he certainly has taste,” he whispered as he closed the clasp.  Hermione felt something intangible inside her, and she wondered what is was.  Longing? Hope? A vague sense of disappointment seemed to wash over her as she turned to face him, his fingers finding the diamonds, lifting them from her skin as she felt herself flush.

 

“I thought the line was something about swans?” he asked, frowning, before delicately releasing the necklace, turning on his heel and striding over to the couch, settling into it.  He draped his arm casually over the back of the couch as he regarded her.

“It is.  And that’s what the commotion just now was about.  James saw the swans flying in here,” she explained, seating herself on the piano stool, too nervous to sit any closer to Draco.

 

“So why pleiades?” Draco asked, curious.

Hermione took the card, stepping forward to hand it to Draco.  He looked at the card, then his eyes met hers as he took it.  She leant back against the piano as he read.

 

Draco nodded.  “The seven stars are said to correlate with the seven gates to the underworld that the Goddess must pass through in her descent,” he told her as he rose to hand her back the card.

“But the Veil relates to Samhain, not Yule,” Hermione murmured, looking up at him confused.

“Pleiades rises at Beltane and sets in Samhain, yes.  To prepare the way for Yule and the birth of Mithras,” he told her with a shrug.

“So what do you think it means?” she asked, eyes fixed on his.  “You’re the expert on constellations,” she tilted her head with a half shrug.

 

Draco’s reached forward, fingering the diamonds once more, a soft smile ghosting his lips as he half chuckled.  “I think your suitor knows your reputation, oh ‘Brightest Witch of Our Age’,” he began.  Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her mouth ready to protest but he cut her off, leaning to whisper in her ear as he replaced the necklace once more.  Hermione closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath on her skin.

“He thinks you are much more than the sum of your reputation; to him, you _are_ the Goddess.”

 

Her heart pounding in her chest, she opened her eyes, but he was already gone.


	8. The Eighth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Flintwoodandco for being awesome x
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%209.jpg.html)  
> 

_On the Eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

“What time is Blaise’s portkey?” Hermione asked as she shut the fridge door.

Pansy looked up from her half eaten bagel as Hermione poured herself some juice.  “Five,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.  Trying, and failing.  She shifted in her seat as Hermione spread butter over her own bagel.

“Are you two going to finally get over yourselves and get together before the end of the year is out or what?” Hermione asked, giving her a pointed look.

 

Pansy huffed.  “Why do you insist on doing that?”

“Doing what?” Hermione asked, stilling her hand, the bagel hovering just inches from her mouth.

“Tying every _one_ and every _thing_ up in neat little packages with labels on them,” Pansy answered, pushing her plate to one side, the bubbles of anxiety causing her to lose her appetite.  

Hermione’s mouth gaped open.  “I don’t,” she replied, her voice raising a little.  

 

Across the table, Pansy flushed a little.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking down at her hands.  “Look, it’s just easier for now to leave things as they are.”

“But that’s all you have ever done,” Hermione sighed.  “You are my best friend, and I love you.  All I want is for you to be happy.  And if what you have with Blaise is enough to make you happy, then that’s okay.  But I don’t think it is.  I think you want more,” Pansy opened her mouth to protest but Hermione leaned in conspiratorially.  “I think Blaise wants more.  You should have seen the way he was looking at you on Boxing Day.  Sometimes you can be so oblivious to what’s in front of you,” Hermione shook her head.

 

Pansy’s eyes went wide as her mouth dropped open in shock.  “I can be oblivious?” she cried.  “Seriously?”

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what Pansy meant, but she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, turning in her seat just in time to witness Draco snag her uneaten bagel from her hand with his teeth.

“Hey!” she cried as he darted across the kitchen, laughing, holding her bagel out of her reach as she scrambled from her chair.  She grabbed the tea towel from where Ginny had left it on the stove, twirling it around before bringing it down against his arse.

 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake you lot behave like children sometimes,” Ginny chastised as she came into the kitchen, an overnight bag on her shoulder and James on her hip.  Seeing Draco, he held out his chubby hands, giggling.  Draco deposited the remains of the bagel on Hermione’s plate, snatched the tea towel from Hermione, winking at her death glare, and wiped his hands before taking James from his mother.  

 

Hermione ignored the part of her that thought the scene looked cute, smacking him hard on his bicep.

“I can’t believe you would beat me while defenseless and holding a child, Granger,” he complained before turning his attention to James.  “Have fun with your Grandparents buddy,” he told him, giving him a hug.  

James scowled.  “I want to stay home and have fun with you and Daddy, but Mummy said no,” he complained.  Draco tried not to laugh at the adorable way he sulked.

 

“Be good, no sulking and I will take you for ice cream when you come home on Tuesday,” he told him, bopping him on the nose.

“Way to go, Draco, bribe my child with sugar,” Ginny remarked taking him into her arms as Hermione and Pansy said their goodbyes.

“No fighting while I am gone,” Ginny reminded them.  “And Draco, for goodness sake, put on some clothes,” she admonished, as she stepped into the floo.

“Yes, mum,” he winked as she stuck her tongue out at him before disappearing into the green flames.

 

Hermione drained her glass before depositing it along with her plate in the sink.  “As punishment for taking my breakfast, you can wash up,” she told Draco before marching from the kitchen.  She took the stairs two at a time, turning into the library.  Her breath hitched in her throat as she caught sight of the little red velvet bag sitting on the desk, accompanied by the familiar white envelope.

 

With trembling fingers, she slipped the silver medallion from the it’s velvet bag as Pansy turned into the library.  She traced the ridges of the engraving with her fingertips, a soft smile on her lips.  Handing it to Pansy, she tore open the card.

“Dear Hermione

As it is the Eighth Day of Christmas, I gift to you this silver medallion, engraved into an eight petalled rose.  Inside each petal, Eight for the eight great Sabbats, you will find a young maid carrying milk.”

 

“Wait,” Pansy suddenly burst out, “what was that?”

“A young maid carrying milk,” Hermione repeated, pointing to the engraving on the medallion.

Pansy shook her head.  “No, give that here,” she instructed, taking the card from her.  “Eight for the eight great Sabbats,” she read, looking up at Hermione.  “Come on, are you honestly telling me you of all people do not know this?”

Hermione frowned.  “Know what? The Sabbats? Yes, I am familiar with the Pagan Wheel of the Year…” she began, but Pansy shook her head cutting her off.

“No, that is a quote. Eight for the eight great Sabbats,” Pansy cried exasperated by the blank expression on Hermione’s face.

“Wait, is this what it’s like to be you?” Pansy suddenly asked, eyeing Hermione.

“A little,” Hermione confirmed.  “Now, will you tell me what you are on about, please?”

 

Pansy pulled out the chair that Hermione normally occupied, flashing Hermione a grin as she settled down, grabbing one of her quills as Hermione settled into the chair Pansy normally occupied.  “Oh the Padawan becomes the Master,” she stage whispered as she pulled a fresh sheet of parchment out and began to write.

“Don’t push it,” Hermione muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t fret, my dear,” Pansy retorted before changing the subject.  “Young wizards and witches are taught at home prior to attending Hogwarts, as you know,” Pansy explained as she wrote.  “One of the ways of teaching about magic is with stories.  Like Draco said the other day, a lot of our stories became muggle folk songs.”

 

“Yes, but he was only repeating something I told him!” Hermione cried, frustration building.

“Alright, calm down!” Pansy chuckled before continuing, ignoring Hermione’s sulking face.  “Every magical child is taught the ‘Teaching Song’,” she revealed, handing the parchment to Hermione.

 

“I'll sing you thirteen, oh

Green grow the rushes oh!

And what is your thirteen, oh?

Thirteen rounds of the silvery wheel,

Twelve for the heavenly augurs,

One and one for the Year-King's reign,

Ten for the Celtic Reading,

Nine for the nine-foot circle,

Eight for the eight great Sabbats,

Seven for the Gates between the Worlds,

Six for the Book of Changes

Five for the fiery points of light,

Four for the Guardian Towers.

Three, the Triple Goddess,

Two, two, the two-faced God in gold and red and green, oh,

One is one and all alone, and evermore shall be so.”

 

Hermione looked up, astonished at Pansy’s smug expression.  “Wait, the first one that got mentioned was the Guardian Towers, so this doesn’t exactly fit,” Hermione told her.  Pansy’s expression started to fall.  

“Well, hang on,” she paused, thinking.  “The first gift was lone bird in a tree.”

“A partridge in a pear tree,” Hermione reminded her.

“Either way it was a lone bird,” Pansy replied, her forehead crinkling as she thought.  “And the turtle doves, they were left on the tree right?”  
Hermione nodded.  “Facing each other, although Janus is the two faced god and he is depicted with his faces looking in opposite directions.”

Pansy chewed her lip.  “Well gold and red and green fits with the tree.” She paused, frowning.  “What about day three, where did you find that?”

“It was on my bed but I don’t see what that has to do with the Triple Goddess.”

“Wait, what time of day was it?” she asked, trying to remember when Hermione had found the gift.

“In the morning, right after you left…”

“While it was still dark out!” Pansy cried, rolling her eyes at Hermione’s frown.  “Your bed would have been bathed in moonlight.  The Triple Goddess is depicted…”

“As the phases of the moon!” Hermione finished excitedly.  “The Watchtowers are the compass points, hence why the birds flew into the four directions.”

Pansy nodded.  “And they correspond with the elements, Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water.  Balance, Mia.  Whoever this is thinks you will bring him balance,” Pansy murmured.  “Wow, and he must think very highly of you,” she sat back in her chair.  “And I don’t mean because of the expense.  I mean to show you how he feels in what he is doing.”

 

Hermione tried to avoid the intensity of Pansy’s gaze.  “Have you had any thoughts about who it might be yet?” Pansy asked.

Hermione thought for a minute, twisting a loose strand of hair.  “I don’t want to get my hopes up and have them dashed,” she whispered.

Pansy frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Hermione shook her head.  “Whoever it is will tell me when they are ready,” she murmured, taking the medallion in her hands once more as Pansy rose from her seat, pressing a kiss to her hair before leaving her to her thoughts.

 

Hermione traced the engraving with her fingertips once more.  Dare she hope it was him?

  
  
  



	9. The Ninth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%2010.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Canimal for all the lovely reviews of Devil's Advocate. Happy New Year to all my readers x

_On the Ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

“So what are you planning on wearing tonight?” Pansy called through to the bathroom as she sat on Hermione’s bed flipping the pages of the magazine that she was only half reading before giving up and tossing it in the trash.  

“I thought I would wear my little black dress,” Hermione replied as she stepped out of the shower, pulling her dark blue towel around her and padded into the bedroom.  Opening her dresser, she glanced at Pansy.

“What is up with you?”

Pansy looked up from where she was fidgeting.  “What?”

“You cannot sit still.  What is going on with you?” Hermione asked, pulling her bra and knickers out before shutting the drawer.

“I slept with Blaise last night,” Pansy blurted out as Hermione pulled on her knickers.

 

Hermione snorted.  “Tell me something I didn’t already know, in fact I am pretty sure the whole street knew that,” Hermione told her as she did up her bra.  “You aren’t exactly quiet.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Pansy replied, as Hermione pulled her dress out of the closet, draping it over the bed.

“No?”

Pansy slipped off the bed as Hermione sat at her vanity, coming to fix her hair.  It was less wild than it had been when they were children, but Pansy was far more adept at glamour charms and Hermione had no patience for taming it.  

“No,” she sighed, her nimble fingers taking Hermione’s hair and sectioning it. “I mean I _slept_ with Blaise.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, the proverbial penny dropping.  “And that is a problem because…?

 

Pansy sighed.  “I have never slept with him before.  I mean, it was always a case of in the here and now, you know?” she explained as she curled sections of Hermione’s hair.  “There was never any intimacy to it.” Her voice trailed off.

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before answering.  “What was different about last night then?”

Pansy curled the final section as she considered her answer.  “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice quiet.  The truth was she did know, he had asked her to stay and she had because it had felt right somehow.  So why was it so difficult to put into words? She wondered.  Maybe because part of her had thought he was only asking her because he was drunk.

 

Gentle knocking at the door broke her reverie, and dropping her wand, she went to the door as Hermione slipped into the bathroom to put on her dress.  Opening the bedroom door, Pansy raised an eyebrow as Draco raked his hand through his locks.  “Mother is here,” he told her, shifting his weight uncomfortably in the hallway.

“Okay, relax,” Pansy told him, stepping out into the hall, reaching out to touch his arm.  Draco nodded.

“We’ll be down in a minute,” she told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before slipping back into the bedroom.

 

Hermione padded out of the bathroom, smoothing down her dress.  “How do I look?" She breathed, nervously checking herself in the mirror.

“Hot,” Pansy told her, smiling.  “Now, let’s get downstairs before Draco has a stroke.”

“Narcissa?” Hermione asked quirking an eyebrow at her.  Pansy nodded her confirmation.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Hermione poured herself another glass of wine, taking a large sip as she stood in the darkened kitchen.  She had slipped out of the dining room a few minutes ago and needed a moment to herself before returning to the party.  It had become something of a tradition for Harry and Ginny to host a dinner party on New Year’s Day, inviting Kingsley and Narcissa, and Ginny’s boss at The Prophet, Heston Jenkins.  To this day, Hermione still struggled with anxiety issues and could only handle so much forced socialising without taking a little break.  

 

Standing in the dark, she sipped her wine while thinking.  The door to the kitchen opened, the sound of animated chatter drifting in momentarily before the door shut once more plunging the room into darkness.  She heard one of the cupboards open, the sound of a cap unscrewing, a glass tumbler being slammed on the counter.

 

“Everything okay?” she asked, startling Draco, who swore, spilling firewhiskey on the counter.  “Sorry,” she told him, wordlessly lighting the candles on the kitchen table with a wave of her hand.

Draco drained his glass in one go, hissing from the burn of the amber liquid as it hit the back of his throat.  “Mother just asked if I had found a match,” he told her, pouring himself another glass.

“Ah,” Hermione replied, coming to his side.  

“I wish she would just drop the subject,” he muttered, lifting the glass to his lips.  “I have told her enough times what my feelings on the matter are.” He drained his glass a second time.  Hermione stilled his hand as he went to pour himself another glass, looking up at him.  He looked down at her, his eyes dropping to her full lips momentarily.  

“When I marry, I want it to be for love,” he whispered, blushing slightly at the admission.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but the kitchen door suddenly opened, the sound of laughter drifting through as Pansy and Blaise stumbled in, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies, lips locked in a passionate kiss.

 

Hermione felt Draco slip his hand into hers, tugging her up the back stairs.  She held her breath as he led her up to the first floor pausing at her bedroom door.  He lifted his hand to her hair, brushing the loose curls from where they hand fallen over her face.

 

“Draco, darling?” Narcissa called as she stepped out of the dining room on the floor below.  

Draco dropped his forehead against Hermione’s, his hot breath mingling with her own as she closed her eyes.  Suddenly he pulled away, striding down the stairs with purpose.

“There you are,” Narcissa sighed.  “I am off now,” she told him, turning her cheek for him to kiss her goodbye.  “Thank you again, Mr Potter, for your hospitality,” she told him, bidding him goodnight before kissing Ginny cordially.

 

Hermione wrinkled her forehead as she tried to work out what had just transpired between her and Draco, wondering if it was simply the result of them both having consumed far too much alcohol.  Opening her bedroom door, she slipped inside, spotting the large white envelope on her pillow.

 

Frowning, she made her way over to the bed, taking the package in her hands and tearing it open.  Puzzled, she picked up the letter that had fallen out, along with a brochure for a bed and breakfast.

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_As it is the Ninth Day of Christmas, I gift you a weekend break to Derbyshire where you will find the nine foot circle, in the form of the Nine Ladies Stone Circle._

 

Hermione put the letter down, opening the brochure, which detailed the reservation and the tourist information about the Stone Circle.  

 

_A small early Bronze Age stone circle traditionally believed to depict nine ladies turned to stone as a penalty for dancing on Sunday. It is part of a complex of prehistoric circles and standing stones on Stanton Moor._

  
“Oh, you clever, clever man,” Hermione murmured, still uncertain as to the identity of her secret admirer.  Suddenly, an idea came to her and she picked up the print out of the booking, searching for the name the booking had been made in.

“Oh, you are sly too,” she murmured, smiling at where he had blanked out his name with a sharpie.

 

Gathering the papers together, she placed them on her nightstand, before padding into the bathroom to get ready for bed.  A few moments later, she crawled into bed, a smile on her face.


	10. The Tenth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%2011.jpg.html)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Littlemulattokitten because she is a sweetie x

_On the Tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, ten lords leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

 

Hermione padded down the stairs, the hum of chatter drifting up from the kitchen, bringing with it the pleasant aroma of coffee and pastries.  Smiling, she pushed the door to the kitchen open, greeted by the sight of Pansy, Blaise and Draco sat around the table, breakfasting.

 

“There you are!” cried Pansy, dramatically.  “I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming down!” She opened the box of pastries, pushing them towards Hermione.  “Blaise picked these up from that new bakery you are so in love with in Diagon Alley,” she told her, as Hermione reached into the box selecting a treat.  

 

She moaned as she bit down on the pastry, closing her eyes, feeling the delicate flakes melt in her mouth, the flavours exploding on her tongue.  “So good,” she murmured, as she brushed the crumbs from her lips with her thumb.  She glanced over at Pansy who looked as though she was about to burst into laughter at any given moment.

“What?” she asked, dropping the pastry onto a plate and retrieving the coffee pot.  

“Nothing,” Pansy chuckled softly, shaking her head before turning to kiss Blaise, her hands splaying across his cheeks.

“Must you two do that?” Draco drawled with mocking disdain.  

“Oh, shut it you,” Pansy retorted, sticking out her tongue.  “Right,” she announced, standing.  “I have to get to the office.”

 

Hermione’s forehead creased as she poured coffee into her favourite mug.  “But it’s a holiday and it’s almost noon.”

“I know,” Pansy sighed, picking up her briefcase.  “But clearly my boss did not get the memo.  I blame you for this,” she told her, giving her a pointed look.

“Me? How can it possibly have anything to do with me?” Hermione cried, putting the coffee pot back and sliding into the chair next to Draco.

“Let’s integrate muggle technology, she said; it will be fun, she said,” her mocking tone exaggerated.  She rolled her eyes.  “He’s got me coming in for a conference call with the sponsors for the Quidditch World Cup, Mia. On the holiday,” Pansy informed her.

“Oh,” Hermione murmured, sipping her coffee.

“Oh, indeed,” Pansy muttered.  “Anyway, I’ll see you later,” she told them, kissing each of them on the cheek before striding over to the floo, disappearing in the green flames.

 

Blaise leant forward in his seat.  “Okay, now that she has gone, I need your help, Draco.”

“It’s too late,” he chuckled, eyeing the tanned wizard over the rim of his cup.  “That girl’s got it bad for you, there is no escape.”  His eyes danced with amusement as he sipped his coffee.

Blaise laughed.  “No, I meant with her birthday.  I want to surprise her with a trip to Italy,” he smiled, turning towards Hermione  “So I will need your help as well.”

Hermione set her cup down, clapping her hands excitedly.  “That sounds wonderful, of course I will help.”

“She’s been embracing all things muggle lately, so I thought we could travel to Italy the muggle way,” Blaise told her as she polished off the remains of her breakfast.  

“Oh, that sounds so exciting,” she grinned, rising from the table.  “Let me go grab my laptop and we can have a look at flights,” she told him, darting from the room.

 

“You certainly know how to get her excited,” Draco told him, raising one eyebrow at Blaise.

“Jealous?” Blaise responded, mirroring his look.

“I’m saying nothing,” Draco muttered, snagging another pastry, avoiding Blaise’s look as he hummed his reply.

 

Upstairs, Hermione turned into the library where she had left her laptop yesterday afternoon.  As she approached the desk, she saw the familiar envelope, her name in emerald script waiting for her.  Smiling to herself, she picked it up, noticing the tarot cards on the ink blotter.  She tried to suppress the snort, as she opened the envelope, sliding out the card and two tickets.

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_As it is the Tenth Day of Christmas, I gift you tickets to the all-male performance of Swan Lake at Sadler’s Wells.  Ten for the Celtic reading, I wonder what’s in the cards for us?_

 

Sighing, Hermione placed the card down on the desk and turned to the bookshelf, her fingertips tracing over the spines until she located her old divinations textbook.  Pulling it from the shelf, she quickly found the chapter on tarot cards and turned over the first card.  

 

“Temperance, inverted,” she muttered to herself, finding the correct page, reading the passage.  

_Now is a time of disorder and emotional disarray.  Let things be harmonized and use reason without being influenced by unbridled emotions._

 

“The High Priestess,” she muttered.

_Tells of extreme introversion and prudence that hinders openness.  Be more receptive and more communicative to share the great wisdom you have, which with you face different types of situations._

 

“Justice, inverted.”

_Tells of chaos in a decision or situation; a period of disparity that will soon get its normal balance again._

 

“The Empress.”

_Tells of a period of time in which the results of actions have been blooming.  An elder woman has provided support, safety and shelter in order to act firmly, kindly and resolutely today with situations that you face._

 

“The Magician.”

_The cause of your concern lies in the past, where self-sufficiency and great skills in all areas were learned.  Describes a past where the roots were characterized by success, and the experiences learned today give endless possibilities by using eloquence and intelligence._

 

“The Star.”

_Indicates that a wonderful period is on the way.  Love is absolutely requited; you feel you are fulfilled and happy.  It is a card that describes your heart as pure and clean and full of faith and hope to continue growing with a life in harmony._

 

“Strength, inverted.”

_Shows personal motivations are influenced by situations in which the stubbornness to handle situations stand out; situations in which reason and emotions played an important role.  Caution is required not to repeat patterns of behaviour._

 

“The Lovers, inverted.  Typical,” she snorted.

_Indicates environment divided into two contradictory situations, which brings about a widespread disorder that could cause a break mainly at the emotional level. Frustration can also be seen at all levels if things are not handle calmly._

 

“Wheel of Fortune.”

_Shows that hopes lie in the fact that future changes bring success and evolution in all senses._

 

“The Hierophant.”

_Patience and wisdom in view of the situations that come up with.  It indicates marriage._

 

She sat back, eyes wide for a moment, before pulling out the desk drawer, shoving the cards and the book in.  She shut the drawer again, quickly, remind herself that she didn’t set much store in divination, anyway.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reading given at the end was not something that was made up for the sake of it fitting with the plot. I actually did a Celtic reading while focusing on the characters and their plots (which is all you do for a real person anyway, focus on who they are and their personality and the situations they are in) and this was the result.


	11. The Eleventh Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%2012.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Jade Presley with love x

 

_On the Eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me, eleven pipers pipping, ten lords leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~._

Breakfast in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place was a noisy affair, the hum of excited chatter drifting up through the floorboards, the sound stirring Hermione from her sleep. Slipping out of bed, she padded into her bathroom, turning on the shower. She listened to the sounds of James rushing up the stairs chased by his father, Harry, and then Harry's heavy footfalls as he took the precocious child back down to the kitchen to get ready.

Shutting off the shower, Hermione quickly dressed in her black yoga pants and an old Gryffindor shirt that she loved to lounge about in. Jogging down the back stairs to the kitchen, she was greeted by James who tugged at her sleeve.

"Aunty 'Mione! Uncle Draco is taking me for ice cream. You should come too," he insisted.

Hermione looked across at Draco who was stood leaning casually against the counter, his left hand tucked inside the pocket of his jeans, sipping his coffee. Meeting her questioning look he shrugged.

"Okay, let me just grab my purse," she told him, rushing back up to her room, a slight blush creeping across her cheeks, heart pounding in her chest.

When Hermione returned to the kitchen, Harry, Ginny, Pansy and Blaise were no longer there. Hermione frowned. "Where did everyone go?" she asked, confused.

"Harry has a budget meeting with Kingsley; Ginny has her interview with Oliver Wood this afternoon so she has gone to the office to go over some last minute details with her editor, Pansy and Blaise have gone into muggle London. Something about Tate," he told her, clearing away the breakfast things.

"The Tate," Hermione corrected.

Draco glanced round at her, puzzled.

"The Tate is an art gallery in London," she explained. "She has been wanting to go for ages, but I haven't had time to go with her," Hermione sighed, helping James with his coat. "I'm a crappy friend really," she murmured.

Draco snorted causing Hermione to look up from fastening James's buttons. "I'd hardly say you were a crappy friend," he told her as he loaded the dishwasher.

"No?" she asked, her voice quiet. Draco looked up at her, holding her gaze. Hermione's tongue darted out to wet her lip feeling her cheeks flush.

"No," he told her, a firmness in his voice that told her he considered the matter not up for debate. Suddenly she felt nervousness wash over her and she averted her eyes, smiling at James. "Ready?" she asked, smiling as he nodded excitedly.

She turned back to Draco. "Ready?"

Draco accio'd his jacket, slipping it on. "Ready."

oOoOoOoOo

The waitress brought the bowl of ice cream over to the small table at Fortescue's where Hermione was sat with Draco and James. Hermione stared wide eyed at the boys as they dug into the ice cream gleefully.

Draco's eyes met hers as he took the spoon from his mouth, swallowing. "What?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've just never seen a bowl of ice cream that big in all my life. How anyone can eat ice cream in January is beyond me," she told him, glancing over at James.

"Because," a look of intense seriousness on his face, "ice cream is yummy."

"Is it indeed," Hermione replied, laughing.

"Yep," Draco agreed, taking another spoonful, winking at Hermione.

"Want to try some?" James offered as he dug his spoon in once more.

"Thank you, but I am okay," she smiled, ruffling James's hair. Her gaze drifted over to Draco whose eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Good, more for us then!" He announced, face beaming as he grinned at James who giggled.

Ten minutes, two full tummies and two ice cream headaches later, they stepped out onto the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. Hermione held James hand, smiling as he held his other hand out for Draco to take.

"Can we please go to Uncle George's shop?" he asked, looking up hopefully at Draco.

Draco glanced at Hermione who nodded her head. "Sure, buddy," he agreed, causing James to bounce up and down with excitement. "But only if you calm down," he instructed, raising one eyebrow at James, relaxing when the small boy fell into a more subdued rhythm.

Grabbing the handle, Draco held the door to the shop open, the cacophonous noise of the shop hitting them as they stepped into the shop.

"Hey, look, if it isn't my favourite nephew!" George cried, coming over to hoist a giggling James up onto his shoulders.

"I'm your only nephew, Uncle George!" he giggled, grabbing hold of George tight.

"Okay, my favourite customer then!" George corrected, as he made his way over to the counter. Hermione made to follow George, pausing every now and then to look at the new products he had on display. When she finally reached the counter, Draco and George were deep in conversation about George's latest line of products and his plans to expand into Europe while James chewed on a licorice wand.

"You know Ginny will kill you when she finds out all you have fed her child today is sugar, right?" she admonished them, hands on her hips.

"Hermione, you are looking scarily like mum, stop it," George told her, shuddering slightly.

"Yes, well be grateful I am not your mum, George Weasley," Hermione told him, eyebrows knitting together.

George gave her a pointed look. "Speaking of whom, when are you coming to visit?"

Hermione sighed looking away. "I don't know."

"Why don't you come for dinner next Sunday with Harry, Ginny and Draco. Everyone will be there so it won't be awkward. You can catch up with mum while the rest of us play a game of pick up Quidditch, since you hate flying," he suggested with a lazy shrug.

Draco looked at Hermione, shocked. "You hate flying? How can you hate flying?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't hate, hate it. I just don't like it."

"How can I not know that about you?" Draco asked, bewildered, his eyes narrowing in thought.

Hermione looked away. "I suspect there are quite a few things you don't know about me."

George looked from Hermione to Draco and back again. "Such as?"

Hermione looked around at him sharply. "Oh I don't know off the top of my head!" she cried, flushing crimson.

"Well," began George. "This isn't tense and akward _at all!_ "

"Urgh," Hermione retorted, stomping away.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione stepped out of the flames carrying a sleeping James up to his bed for a nap. Coming down the stairs, she paused at the library to select a book to read. Glancing at the desk, she saw a white envelope with her name on it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tore it open.

_Dear Hermione,_

_As it is the Eleventh Day of Christmas, I gift you these tickets for a woodwind chamber music recital. The performance is one year from now for one and one is the Year King's reign and I pledge to you that I will still be true to you one year from now._

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she read the words, stunned.


	12. The Twelfth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%2013.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to torigingerfox x

**The Twelfth Day of Christmas**

_On the Twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, eleven pipers pipping, ten lords leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree_

_.~~~~~_

 

A soft smile ghosted Hermione’s lips as her eyes fluttered open.  Throwing the covers off, she slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom to take a quick shower.  Dressed, she left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.  Footfalls light, she hurried down to the library, trying to suppress the childlike excitement and the little flutter she felt in her heart as she pushed the door open, her gaze drifting to the desk.  

Everything was as it was the night before when she had retired to bed.  Her laptop was charging, notes untouched next to it, her quill resting on the top.  She tried not to feel too disappointed as she turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.  

Padding down the last flight of stairs, her spirits lifted as she pushed the door to the lounge open, hopefulness radiating through her.  She ran her hand along the top of the baby grand piano, a small sigh emitting from her lips, her hope dying away.

Pushing open the kitchen door, she was greeted by the sound of the coffee brewing in the pot, and Pansy’s gentle humming as she buttered her bagel.  Pansy turned to Hermione, smiling at her and Hermione noted for the first time how different she looked now that she and Blaise had seemingly decided to make their relationship more official.

“Hey,” Hermione greeted her, settling into a chair at the breakfast table.  

“Hey yourself, what’s up?” Pansy asked, sensing her tone.

Hermione glanced up at her.  “Why would you think anything was up?”

Pansy raised an eyebrow at her.  “You forget how well I know you,” she told her pointedly, handing her half her bagel.

Hermione sighed as she tore the bagel to pieces.  “I just thought...” her soft voice trailed off as she blushed, and then shook her head.  “I don’t know what I thought, really.  I was being stupid,” she told her, shifting in her seat.

Pansy poured Hermione a cup of coffee, handing it to her.  “Hermione, you are a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them.”

Hermione frowned.  “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.  Care to list some of these things that I am?”

Pansy smirked.  “You know what I mean, and I am not here to massage your ego,” she told her, raising one eyebrow at her.  “So tell me, what did you think?”

Hermione lifted her cup to her lips, closing her eyes as she inhaled the citric malt aroma of the Burundi Gihere coffee beans.  Sipping the coffee, she savoured the taste notes of molasses and lime zest as she considered her response.  “I just thought,” she began, placing her cup down on the table in front of her, fidgeting with her hair distractedly.  “It’s silly really,” she whispered, the blush staining her cheeks deepening.  

Pansy smiled, placing her own cup down.  “You thought your present would be waiting for you,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on Hermione.  Something flickered across Hermione’s eyes causing Pansy to lean in.  “There’s more isn’t there,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes before casting a pointed look at her.  “You thought your secret admirer would make himself known to you today.”

Hermione flushed, looking away.  “I was being silly.”

Pansy shook her head, reaching across and taking her hand, giving it a little squeeze.  “No, you weren’t.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by James rushing in closely followed by Ginny and Harry.

“Aunt ‘Mione!” he greeted, clambering up onto the chair beside her as Ginny popped some bread into the toaster.  Harry went to the fridge, snagging the juice, pouring some into the beaker Ginny had put in front of James.

“Do I really have to go to Grandma’s house today?” James whined as Ginny spread jam on his toast.

“Yes, buddy,” Harry replied, pouring himself some coffee.

James pouted as Ginny placed his toast in front of him.  “But I want to stay home with Aunty ‘Mione and Uncle Draco,” he complained.

“Your aunt and uncle have things to do,” Ginny told her precocious child as he chomped on his toast.

James frowned, swallowing.  “What kind of things?” he asked, curious.

Ginny chuckled.  “Grown up things.”

James was not satisfied by her response.  “What kind of grown up things?” he asked, eyes growing wide with wonder causing Hermione to chuckle.

“Boring grown up things,” Draco drawled as he came into the kitchen, ruffling James’s hair with one hand and snagging a piece of his toast with the other while he was distracted.

“Hey!” James cried, pushing himself up and reaching for his toast, taking it back from Draco.

“Fine, I guess I will make my own,” he sighed, dragging out the syllables as James laughed raucously.  

“Will you two settle down,” Ginny admonished as she spread butter on her toast.  Draco settled into the chair next to James, the two of them sharing a look before pulling faces at each other.

“Any word from your beau?” asked Ginny as she seated herself opposite Hermione.  The brunette shook her head. 

“Not yet, anyway,” Pansy replied, quirking an eyebrow at her as they shared a look.  

Sometime later, Hermione went up to the library to work on the reports she had taken home for the holiday.  While Harry had insisted she take the time off, he had been unable to stop her taking the files home, knowing she was a workaholic and that enforced breaks led to a level of boredom that made her anxiety increase.

Pushing open the door, she caught sight of the white envelop resting on her laptop which had now been moved to the small reading table to the left of the desk.  Her breath hitched in her throat, her pulse quickening, as she approached the table, taking the envelope in her hands, her fingers ripping it open as her eyes drifted over the desk.  

A map of the night sky had been rolled out across the desk, twelve stones engraved with runes marking out twelve constellations.

Pulling the card and two tickets from the envelope, with baited breath she read the words on the card.

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ As it is the Twelfth day of Christmas, I gift you two tickets to a performance of ‘The Nutcracker’ and twelve runes for the twelve heavenly augurs.   _

Hermione traced her fingertips over the runes, smiling to herself.

“So you got your present then?” she heard Draco ask behind her.  

Turning she saw him leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.  She smiled, nodding.  “Yes, twelve runes for the twelve heavenly augurs,” she told him, turning back to the map.  

Draco pushed away from the doorframe.  “The signs of the zodiac,” he replied, coming to stand behind her.  She felt his warm breath ghosting the flesh of her neck as he leaned over her shoulder to look.

“But he hasn’t made himself known to you?” he whispered, as Hermione shuddered, his breath hot on her ear.

She shook her head.  “No,” her whispered words barely audible.

Draco hummed his reply, the vibration so close to her skin it made her tingle, a flutter in her heart, arousal pooling in her abdomen.  She closed her eyes for a moment.  Feeling him step back they snapped open as she turned around to see him shrug.

“Well Pansy did explain it to you,” he told her casually.

Hermione frowned.  “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

“The teaching song.  There is still a day left,” he told her, turning to leave.

Hermione gasped.  “Wait, what? There are Twelve days of Christmas,” she insisted.

Draco smiled as he strode back to the desk, pulling the parchment forward, searching for the one Pansy had written the teaching song on, pointing to the lines as Hermione stepped forward.

“I’ll sing you thirteen oh,

Green Grow the rushes oh,

And what is your thirteen, oh?

Thirteen rounds of the silvery wheel,”

“So there’s another day to go?” she asked, looking up at Draco.  He nodded, smiling down at her.  “There’s another day to go.” 

__  
  
  
  
  



	13. Twelfth Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s305.photobucket.com/user/lizoconnortalk21/media/12%20days%20of%20christmas%2015.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to xxxkia x

* * *

**Twelfth Night**

_And let not a man then be seen here,_

_Who unurg'd will not drink_

_To the base from the brink_

_A health to the king and queen here._

_.~~~~~._

The first few days of January had brought with them a sharp frost: the previous night being particularly cold, had left London covered in a crisp blanket of ice. Hermione sat in the lounge curled up on her favourite chair, a soft fleece blanket draped over her lap, listening to the crackle of the fire as she read the book Draco had given her for Christmas. The house was quiet and still: Draco, the only other occupant, lounging on the couch, frowning at The Times crossword.

Suddenly the floo roared to life, the melodic feminine chatter of Ginny and Pansy drifting through to the lounge as they stepped out of the green flames. Hermione's cold fingers gripped the hem of the blanket, pulling it off as she stood from the chair. As she padded out to the kitchen, the sound of the girls animated chatter as they moved about the kitchen drifted down the hall.

She pushed the door open, smiling as her friends greeted her warmly. "You're home early," she remarked as she slipped onto a stool at the island.

Ginny shook her head. "It's three o'clock. I told you Pansy and I were both finishing early today," the redhead told her as she disappeared into the pantry.

"Is it three already?" Hermione asked, surprised, as she glanced at her watch.

"Yes," came the muffled reply as Ginny rooted about inside. "I take it you got sidetracked reading," she continued as she came back into the kitchen. "Wait," she paused, her eyes widening. "Did you hear from your beau?"

Hermione scowled as disappointment gripped her heart. "He is not my beau, and no."

Pansy grinned as she unpacked the groceries they had picked up on their way back to the house. "Sure he is. He is your amore; your one true love," she quipped, giving Hermione a look that made her pick off a grape that she had just unpacked, throwing it at her.

Pansy batted it away, tutting. "Now now, no need to get violent," Pansy chastised as her lips curled up into a smirk.

"'Violent' is her default behaviour setting lately, haven't you noticed?" Draco drawled as he strode into the kitchen. He snagged a grape from the punnet, popping it into his mouth with one hand as he reached around Hermione into the grocery bags with the other, the slight pressure of his torso pressed against her back causing her to shiver. A slight flush stained her cheeks as she locked eyes with Pansy, communicating with her silently.

Pansy's mouth dropped open, then, belatedly, she smacked Draco's hand, glaring up at him. "Leave that alone, it's for tonight," she scolded him as he chuckled, pulling his hand away. Pansy turned back to Hermione, trying to catch her eye as she watched her slip off her stool.

"Anything I can help you with, Ginny," she asked politely as Ginny placed the large Wassailing punchbowl that her parents had given her and Harry as a wedding present on the counter.

"I think I have this bit under control," she told her, as she began slicing apples in half, placing them on a baking sheet. "But if you and Pansy could stop Draco from eating the food now and sort out the cheese board and the prosciutto I would be greatful. I put the beef on to slow cook before I went to work so that should be ready shortly," she smiled, opening the oven door. The pleasant aroma of the the roasting meat engulfed the kitchen, making each of them breathe in deeply. "Ginny, that smells delicious," Hermione sighed as Ginny slid the baking sheet onto the oven shelf.

"I'm going to be so fat by the end of yuletide," Pansy moaned, causing Ginny to smile wickedly.

Draco took advantage of the distraction, the rustle of the bag as he slipped his hand inside causing Hermione to whip her head around, slapping his hand away.

"See? Violent!" Draco pouted, rubbing his hand that smarted from the contact.

"Get out of my kitchen!" Ginny scolded, pointing to the door as Draco sulkily left the room.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione carried the tray of slices of melon and prosciutto, and ripe figs into the dining room, placing them on the sideboard next to where Pansy had left the cheeseboard and grapes before jogging up to her bedroom to change. Twenty minutes later she came downstairs wearing her favourite red dress, her curls loose hanging about her shoulder.

Pausing as she reached the library, she pushed the door open softly, her pulse racing as she peered in. Seeing nothing amiss, she suppressed the disappointment that threatened to take hold as she pulled the door shut. Taking a steadying breath, she turned into the dining room, her breath catching as she saw the envelope with her name on, sitting at her place at the table.

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she reached the table, seeing the small black velvet jewelry box sitting on top of piece of parchment with on which there was an ink drawing. She frowned slightly as she opened the velvet box, gasping at the silver pendant necklace with the moonstone in the centre, it's engraving almost identical to the drawing. Placing the box on the table, her trembling fingers tore open the envelope, pulling out the card inside.

_Dear Hermione_

_This night, as you know, is known as Twelfth Night. In honour of the occasion, I gift you this silver necklace on which is engraved the Thirteen rounds of the silvery wheel: the teaching circle all magical children are taught. You will have realised by now that I have been blending the muggle song, The Twelve Days of Christmas, with the pagan Teaching Song on which your muggle song is based. The number was originally thirteen, as the line tells you, because of the lunar months. I want you to know, my dearest Hermione, that I believe you and I are destined for each other: two halves of the same soul, yin and yang. I believe that we will bring balance to and complement each other. People will say we are opposites; that nothing good will come of this. But I believe those people are wrong. That is why I have done this for you, rather than just tell you how I feel; I wanted to show you how I feel and how far I have come from the boy you once knew._

Speechless, Hermione put the card down, picking up the drawing, tracing her fingertips over the ink.

"Thirteen rounds of the silvery wheel," the familiar voice behind her began, as his hand reached around her, his finger drawing the circle. "Twelve for the heavenly augurs," he continued, pointing to each of the runes for the signs of the zodiac. "One and one for the Year-King's reign, because the wheel turns through the year," he whispered, his breath ghosting her ear. "Ten for the Celtic Reading, which tells you what will occur in the year," he continued. "Nine for the nine-foot circle, in which we gather."

He paused, pointing to where each of the sabbats were written in the outer circle. "Eight for the eight great Sabbats. Seven for the Gates between the Worlds, you already know is Pleiades, and is marked by these seven stars between the sabbats," he whispered, pointing each one out. Hermione nodded her understanding. "Six for the Book of Changes: the i-ching, or as it is known in alchemy, the yin and yang," he told her referring to his words on the card. "Like you, it brings balance," he told her, smiling.

"Five for the fiery points of light: each of these stars is depicted by the pentacle, with it's five points of light," he continued, pointing to each one. "Four for the Guardian Towers," he told her, tapping a finger to each of the celtic knot bands in each of the compass directions. "Three, the Triple Goddess, depicted by the triqueta," he whispered, tracing the line of the symbol as she nodded. "Two, two, the two-faced God in gold and red and green," he chuckled, well since Janus looks to the past he left behind and the future where he is headed, I guess that one could be me," he whispered. "Finally 'One is one and all alone, and ever more shall be so' refers to the belief in henotheism, but I like to view that as one is one and _was_ all alone. Until I found you, Hermione," he whispered, taking the necklace from the box.

Hermione had been rendered utterly speechless by his declaration, his explanation of the symbolism and emotion overwhelming her. He draped the necklace across her decolletage, his fingers closing the clasp before he turned her round to face him. Her warm chocolate brown eyes were awash with unshed. She felt him tilt her chin up until her gaze found his cool blue eyes.

"I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger," he told her, flashing her a lopsided smile as he braced himself for her rejection.

But it didn't come.

"I wanted it to be you," she told him, his hand cupping her cheek as the tears broke free of their dam. He brushed them away with his thumb as his free hand found it's way into her hair, his lips, ghosting hers. "I wanted it to be you, Draco, so badly," she whispered into his kiss.

"Finally," Ginny and Pansy cried from the doorway, where they had been listening. They crashed into the room, embracing Hermione as Harry and Blaise sauntered in, tumblers of firewhiskey in hand.

Harry handed a glass to Draco. "Couldn't just write her a note saying 'I'm into you', eh Malfoy," Harry grinned over his glass as Hermione showed the girls her gifts.

Draco scowled. "Hardly romantic, is it, Potter?"

"At least he doesn't have the…" Ginny began, turning to Hermione, frowning. "How did you put it? 'the emotional range of a teaspoon'? like my brother," Ginny laughed as Hermione nodded confirmation of her previous declaration.

"No," Draco agreed. "Just that of a tablespoon," he drawled, earning himself a playful punch on the arm from Ginny.

"Lay off my husband," she winked.

Hermione turned to her friends, hands on her hips. "So I take it you were all in on this, then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

They all shook their heads. "No," Ginny smiled. "This was all Draco, however I figured it out on Christmas Day."

Pansy held her hand up from where she was pouring prosecco into waiting flutes. "I figured it out on the fifth day," she called over her shoulder before turning and handing Hermione a flute.

"I figured it out on New Year's Day," Blaise remarked. "Seriously, next time put a tie on the kitchen door like we used to do at Hogwarts," he winked, causing Draco to flush slightly.

"Well, I only found out a few minutes ago when I couldn't get into my own dining room," Harry complained, sipping his firewhiskey as Ginny playfully smacked his arm.

"That's because you are oblivious, darling," Ginny smiled, pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek as he frowned. She pulled back, narrowing her eyes. "Although, come to think of it, surely you should have figured it out first."

Harry looked at his wife, confused. "Why do you say that?"

"Because since this is your house, surely you knew that the wards are ridiculously strong, meaning it could only be someone who has regular access to it and Malfoy here is the only single man with regular access." Ginny rounded on Hermione. "In fact, how did you not figure it out, oh 'Brightest Witch of Our Age'?"

Hermione flushed, realising she had overlooked this point. Suddenly her eyes went wide. "House elves. It could have been house elves!"

"Yeah, because with you it's always the house elves," Blaise chuckled.

"Oh, leave the girl be, it's okay for her to have a break from being super intelligent," Pansy chastised, coming to place an arm around Hermione's shoulder. Hermione smiled, her head dropping onto Pansy's shoulder.

Pansy squeezed Hermione's shoulder in return. "Besides, gives the rest of us a chance to be smart about something," she quipped, causing Hermione to lift her head, scowling as she poked her tongue out.

"Anyway, let's eat, I'm starving," Pansy cried, letting go of Hermione and grabbing a plate, as Ginny levitated the food in from the kitchen.

Draco slipped his hand into Hermione's, smiling as she curled into his body.

"Happy?" he whispered, brushing her curls back from her face as she smiled up at him.

"Very," she replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. I am so glad you enjoyed it :) x
> 
> A traditional English Wassail recipe that originates from Suffolk which is a delectable hot, spiced mulled cider with sherry and port and is served with the all important baked apples. A Yorkshire version called "Lamb's Wool" is made with ale instead of cider and is served when the apples have burst, so the pulp looks like lamb's wool in the mulled ale.
> 
> Step 1
> 
> Pre-heat oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6.
> 
> Step 2
> 
> Cut around the middle of each apple with a sharp knife and place them in an oven proof dish. Fill each apple core cavity with a teaspoon of sift brown sugar. Stick the cloves in the orang and place it with the apples in the dish. Add a little water, about 6 tablespoons and roast in the pre-heated oven for 30 to 45 minutes, or until the apples are soft but still retain their shape.
> 
> Step 3
> 
> Leave the apples in the dish to keep warm and take the orange out - cut it in half and place it on a large sauce pan. Add the rest of the ingredients and the juices from the apple roasting dish to the sauce pan and gently heat until the sugar has dissolved.
> 
> Step 4
> 
> Bring the mixture to the boil and then turn it down immediately and keep it warm until you need to serve it.
> 
> Step 5
> 
> When you are ready to serve the wassail, ladle the fruit and spiced into a large punch bowl and then pour the wassail into the bowl. Add the apples by floating them on top and serve straight away in warmed mugs or cups.
> 
> Step 6
> 
> The apples can be eaten afterwards as a delectable dessert with cream or custard.
> 
> Recipe found at http*:/*www.*lavenderandlovage.*com/*2015/*01/*twelfth-*night-*apples-*and-*wassailing-*a-*traditional-*english-*wassail-*recipe.*html (remove * to make the link work ;) )
> 
> "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." You've Got Mail, [1998] Nora & Delia Ephron. All rights belong to the screen writers and Warner Bros, no copyright infringement intended.
> 
> "Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, doesn't mean we all have" Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, JK Rowling, [2003]. All rights belong to JK Rowling and Bloomsbury Press, no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> The opening stanza is from a poem by a man named Robert Herrick commemorating the Twelfth Night Cake ritual.


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